


Confession

by rizlowwritessortof



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean - Freeform, Dean Smut, Dean x Reader, F/M, Priest Kink, Priest!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8492503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizlowwritessortof/pseuds/rizlowwritessortof
Summary: When Dean returns from some undercover work, you discover a fantasy you never realized you had... One shot, Dean x reader.





	

Your head throbs a little, and you realize how hard you’re frowning. You’ve been staring at the laptop for what seems like hours, looking for information on the history of a church that’s been experiencing a suspiciously high death rate. Dean and Sam had headed out that morning, planning on being back soon, from the sound of Dean’s text a few minutes ago. The church is only a two hour drive, so they'll be back for your background information to finish a plan of action to take care of whatever is causing the recent mayhem.

You rub your eyes, looking up at the sound of footsteps. You turn in your chair, a smile of greeting on your lips, but when you see him, it freezes in place for a moment before slowly fading. Suddenly it’s hard to breathe, and your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, your mouth feeling dry, your ‘hey, guys’ stuck in your throat.

Dean stands before you, confusion beginning to furrow his brow a little as you glance back up at him. “Hey. You okay, babe?” he asks, coming closer and bending to kiss your forehead.

You clear your throat a little, then flash a quick, nervous smile his way. “Fine. I’m fine. Just have a headache. It’s fine. Really.” You tug at your skirt, fidgeting, not really meeting his eyes.

His gaze is skeptical, but he turns to answer Sam as he walks into the room, and you gulp a breath of air, staring at the table. Both men are dressed as priests, and seeing Dean in that disguise is sending your pulse racing, your thighs tensing at the ache between them.

You watch them carefully out of the corner of your eye, sending a mechanical smile Sam’s way and riveting your eyes once again to the laptop. As Sam turns to leave the room, you stare intently at the screen, not even seeing what’s in front of you as Dean approaches you again.

“Okay, sweetheart, what’s going on?” He’s standing above you, looking down, and you’re afraid he may actually hear your heart banging its frantic rhythm against your chest.

“Nothing. I told you, just a headache. I’ll be...”

“Fine. Right.” He reaches to place a finger beneath your chin, gently forcing you to look up at him. There’s no way to hide the hunger you’re feeling, and you know, as soon as he looks into your eyes, that he’ll sense your arousal.

“Where’s Sam?” you ask before he can speak. His head tilts the slightest bit as he looks down at you, eyes scanning over your tense posture, one hand gripping the edge of the table, the other clenched in your lap, your legs pressed together.

“He went to change and go for a run.” His voice is like a caress, velvety smooth, and you shiver as his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip. “Do you have something to tell me, baby?” He bends closer, his lips brushing over your ear. “A confession, maybe?” You shudder as his breath ghosts over your neck, and he stands to tower over you again. Without another word, he takes your hand, guiding you to your feet, then leads you down the hall to your shared bedroom.

You follow him meekly into the room, and he lets go of your hand as he turns to close the door. Then he moves to the bed and sits, hands folded in his lap. He beckons you to come closer with a little motion of his head, watching as you approach slowly, sinking to the floor between his knees. “Is there something you need to tell your priest, my child?”

Your eyes close as a shudder ripples through you, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to stifle a soft moan. “Yes...” you hesitate, but he coaxes you to continue.

“You may call me Father. Father Dean.”

Now that little moan won’t be smothered, and you see his lips twitch a little as he fights to suppress a smirk. “Yes, Father Dean.”

“Don’t be afraid, my child. You can tell me anything.”

“Forgive me, Father.”

“For what?” You glance up, almost shyly, catching a glimpse of his tongue momentarily caught between his teeth as he shifts a little on the bed.

“I… I’ve harbored sinful thoughts.”

You hear him exhale, soft and slow. “Go on.”

“I think about your lips. How soft they would be. How they would taste.”

“Is there more?” He sounds a little breathless, and you shift as you sit there on your knees before him, biting back a whine of desperation.

“I imagine myself watching through the window as you undress yourself. I picture you in my mind, walking around the room with your shirt off, or naked after a shower. Sometimes I touch myself when I think these things. Is that wrong, Father?”

He definitely moves now, a soft groan in his throat. “You shouldn’t think of me that way, my child. It’s a sin.” His voice is rougher now, lower, and the authority he speaks with makes you flush with heat.

“Sometimes I think about you touching yourself. Wrapping those long fingers around your hard cock, stroking yourself. I imagine you’re thinking of me when you close your eyes and thrust into your fist, and that you shout my name when you come.” You hear him whisper, “God!” under his breath, and you look up at him, innocence in your eyes. “Are you praying for me, Father?”

You put your hand on his knee, sliding it slowly up his thigh until you almost reach the erection straining beneath the black pants he’s wearing. His hand clamps down on your wrist, stopping you, and your eyes move back up to his. After a momentary struggle, he clamps his jaw and narrows his eyes in a stern stare. “You are a sinful girl.”

You stare back at him, moving your free hand between your legs, your eyes closing as you put pressure on the unbearable ache, your eyes closing for a moment. When you open them you can see he’s breathing hard, his eyes glowing as he removes your hand from his thigh. “Stand up. And turn around.” His manner is authoritative, but there’s a waver in his voice that almost makes you smile as you rise to your feet. You stand slowly, still standing between his knees, then turn your back to him, trembling in anticipation.

His arm moves quickly around your waist, pulling you against his chest, his other hand gliding over your hip, down your belly, between your thighs. He cups your sex, his lips next to your ear as he speaks softly. “These sinful thoughts are arousing you, my child. You’re hot, and wet.” His fingers stroke over you through the damp silkiness of your panties, and you jump as he rubs hard over your swollen clit. “Very wet.” You lean back against him as he touches you, teasing, and you struggle to keep your composure. “Take these off,” he orders, and you pull your short skirt up out of the way, pulling them down far enough to let them fall to the floor. Before you have a chance to ready yourself, he slips two fingers inside you, and a small whimper escapes, your knees almost giving way. “Is this what you do when you watch me, my child? Do you pretend it’s me touching you like this?”

“Yes, Father Dean,” you manage to whisper, and he works at you more vigorously, holding you tight against him.

“Do you think about what my cock would feel like inside you? Is that what you imagine, my child?” His voice is almost a growl now, and you feel his lips on your neck, a shudder rippling through you as his tongue moves against your skin and he begins to mark you.

“Y-yes, Father Dean,” you almost whine, and then he brushes his fingertips over that place inside you that sets every nerve alight, rubs his thumb hard over your clit, and you come undone. When you are aware once again, your body shaking as your vision clears, you feel his lips against your skin, kissing your neck, your shoulder, and he removes his fingers slowly, turning you to face him. You can barely stand as he unzips his pants, slipping them down far enough to free himself, his tongue darting over his lips as he guides you to straddle his lap.

He pulls your top over your head, then unfastens your bra, letting you drop it to the floor as he watches. His eyes devour you as he mumbles, “Wicked girl, tempting a man of God like this,” then begins to suck lazily at your breasts, hands squeezing your thighs, and you feel him, hot and hard, pressed between your bodies. He twitches against you as you reach up to run your fingers through his hair. “Please, Father...” you beg softly, and he moans, teeth tugging gently at your nipple before he raises his head to look at you.

“You want to please your priest?” he rumbles, moving your hand to his erection, and you both close your eyes as you touch him, your fingers caressing the velvety skin.

“Yes, Father Dean,” you answer obediently, and he clenches his teeth for a moment as you stroke over him. You raise yourself up, guiding him, sinking down slowly onto his length, both of you moaning. “Oh, Father...” you whimper, “does this please you?”

“Fuck.” The curse is forced from him as you grind against him, burying him to the hilt, and his control is gone. He grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, thrusting up into you hard. Your fingers are gripping his biceps as you hold on, letting out a little cry as he bucks up into you hard, and you come again. Your name is forced from his lips, his voice rough and wrecked as you clench around him, and you feel him flood you with heat, pulsing inside you as your head spins with the fierceness of your orgasm.

He holds you close as you cling to him, your muscles trembling and weak, and he lays back, pulling you with him. You both lay there, silent and spent, for a while, his hands gently caressing your back. When he finally moves, he turns to his side, pulling from you and cradling you close, one hand brushing the hair from your face as he kisses you, sweet and slow.

He pulls back to look at you, a little smile curving his lips, and you blush at the sparkle in his eyes. “So... why didn't you tell me you have a thing for priests?”

You want to hide your face in his neck, but he stops you with a hand to your face, preventing you from avoiding his gaze as you stammer out an answer. “I don't. I didn't. I've never... It's just you. You walked in wearing that – and I suddenly wanted to commit sacrilege.”

He chuckles, low and deep, his hand moving down to cup your breast as he kisses you slowly, sucking lightly on your bottom lip as he draws back. “Any time you feel like getting in touch with your sinful side, you just let me know, sweetheart.”

 

You smile back at him, a little glint in your eye. “Yes, Father Dean.”


End file.
